Sweet Little Moments
by BeautifullyHealed
Summary: Harry, I have no idea what you do to my heart... But keep doing it.


**Warning: I love humor. Of course, I know you FanFiction readers are like romance vampires, devouring any source of love stories like a ravenous monster. Hopefully I can feed your craving a little bit and make you smile too :) We'll compromise. Capeesh?**

* * *

A lot of people think love is that tingly feeling inside your chest, the feeling of wanting someone forever, the way it feels so right to have your hand in theirs. Well, you know what? They all have no clue what love is.

I can tell you this much: love is not a feeling. That first "walking on water" just because you're together stage, it fades. If you aren't in love, then that's when the relationship gets boring, when the fights start happened. But when you are in love… the warm feeling fades but this deep firing starts burning. A desire to keep that person in you're heart, to be together forever.

You may ask me, "How do you know so much about this kind of stuff?" Because, I am more deeply and irrevocably in love than you could possibly imagine. If you tell me "You're a little girl, you don't know what love is" then I'll reply, "It sounds like I know what love is quite better than you, then." The man I am in love with happens to be four floors above me now, in my brother's bedroom.

I looked in the mirror above my dresser and stared at my reflection. I was surprisingly tall for a girl, but thankfully not towering or lanky as Percy and Ron sometimes appeared. My body was toned and thin from my jogging around the Burrow every morning and long hours of Quidditch training. I noted that my deep red hair had grown to about my waist now and fell in free, carefree ways. A lot of girls at Hogwarts started to pile on makeup from the second they realized boys were attractive and indeed did NOT have cutties. However, I found makeup looked rather odd on me most of the time so I let my freckled skin breathe naturally and left my brown eyes to sparkle by themselves.

"Oui, Ginny!" a rather loud voice said outside my door and unsuccessfully tried to open my door.

"Ginny, how come your door won't open?" a frustrated voice exclaimed.

Of course, I immediately reckoning the voices of Fred and George.

I opened the door with a smirk and held up a key.

"Because the door is locked, you dimwits," I smirked in response.

"Brilliant," Fred replied, "Who would have thought of that?"

"A muggle, that's who," George replied, in awe, "Well done Ginny. We've trained you well."

"You did nothing," I smirked, "But okay."

"So anyways, we wanted to know why your thong was in the bathroom."

A gold and pink pair of knickers were hanging off the tip of his wand.

"FRED! GEORGE!" I shouted, feeling pink flush through my cheeks as I snatched them off his wand and threw them over my head to the back of my room.

"Hey, don't get mad at us!" Fred put his hands up in defense, "You're the ninny head who left them in the bathroom. Poor Harry was the one who noticed them and he mentioned it to a disgusted Ron, who told us."

"Oh, just bloody perfect," I muttered, tucking my hair behind my ears.

"Anywho," George said, with a wink, "We have to be going."

"It's almost 10 at night, where on earth could you all possibly be going?" I inquired.

"Ah, poor Ginny, so innocent," Fred pressed his hand to his heart and fluttered his eyelashes, "If only we could tell you, but you are far to young to hear of such things."

I cocked an eyebrow and kneed him the crotch. Fred groaned and clutched his hands.

"Unnecessary," he choked.

"Oh, come on Fred, grow some, would you?" George said, pushing him down the stairs, "See you, Ginny!"

I slammed the door and couldn't help but smile at those idiots. Getting on my knees, I rummaged through my trunk until I found my favorite journal. Grabbing a quill and some ink, I began to write about the week and all the little things that had been on my heart and mind. After a while, my eyes began to become heavy and I found it nearly impossible to keep them open. When I had almost given into sleep, I heard voices walking down the stairs.

"Honestly, Ron, I don't think it's really as big of a deal as your making it," I heard Harry's voice say.

"Bloody hell, Harry, they were my sister's knickers, for Merlin's sake!" Ron croaked in reply.

"Oh, grow up, Ron," Harry sighed, "It's not like she hasn't seen yours."

"Can we change the subject please?" Ron begged, then stopping for a second, "Uh oh. I just realized I didn't put up that laundry Mum told me too."

"Aren't she and your dad asleep already?" Harry asked.

"Yes, but she has this creepy way of waking up and knowing if I didn't do something. I'm gonna go finish that. Be back down in a second." Ron began to run back up the creaky stairs.

I heard Harry walk downstairs into the kitchen. I don't know what made me do it, but I found myself on my feet and opening my door, walking down into the kitchen.

Harry stood there, pouring a glass of water, his back facing me.

"Thirsty?" I asked.

He jumped and turned around, and seeing it was me, he smiled.

"Yeah," he replied, grabbing another glass, "Want some?"

"Sure," I grinned, taking the glass after he had poured it, "Why thank you, sir."

I curtsied jokingly, flashing him another smile.

"You're quite welcome, Miss Weasley," he replied, his voice light and teasing, "I must say, I do like your pink pajama pants. They go quite splendidly with your bunny slippers."

"Oh why thank you, kind sir," I batted my eyelashes, lifting on my tip toes as I pretended to model my shoes, "These are only the latest in London, you see."

"Of course," Harry said with understanding eyes, "As are those pajama pants, I'm sure."

"Why of course, Mr. Potter!" I flipped my hair vainly, "This color is all the range now. They go lovely with my gold knickers, of course."

Harry burst out laughing, almost dropping is water glass, and he ran his hands through his shining jet black hair.

"I must say, I like your outfit as well," I said, admiring his combination of a grey button up with blue sweatpants, "But don't you think the top is slightly too dress for those bottoms? Not that I don't admire your style."

Harry laughed.

"Well, Miss Weasley, you see," he explained, "I was wearing an appropriate pair of slacks earlier and found them much too uncomfortable so I changed into these. I must of forgot to adjust the top accordingly. My condolences."

"It is forgivable, I suppose," I winked as I walked towards him, tugging on the collars, "I assume your wearing an undershirt, correct?"

"Like a gentlemen," Harry smiled, his voice slightly softer.

Slowly, I unbutton the top button. And the second. And the third. After that, I curled my finger under and just slid my hand down, making the buttons pop off. I reached behind his head, slowly, and tugged the off his shoulders and down his arms. When I was done, I threw it on the floor and looked up into his eyes.

We were chest to chest, face to face. I could feel him breathing in and out.

"Ginny," he said, his voice low and husky.

"Don't you back out on me, Harry," I growled, tugging on his shirt.

"Ginny, you're Ron's—"

"I'm Ron's nothing, Harry," I cocked my head and whispered in his ear, grabbing his hands and placing them on my lower back.

Suddenly, he couldn't resist and he leaned forward and kissed me. I wrapped my hands in his hair and pressed against him. I wanted him on me forever. I wanted his hands always around me.

You'd expect things to get quite inappropriate, wouldn't you? But no, Harry's a great guy and respects me far too much to shag in my parent's kitchen. (In other words, he's a bloody pansy and loves to keep me waiting.)

Harry pulled away and pushed my hair behind me ears.

"You are so beautiful, Ginny," he whispered, kissing me on the cheek.

"Why would you say that?" I whispered back, searching his emerald green eyes.

"Because it's true," he smiled, kissing me softly once more, "You bring out the best in me."

Suddenly, I heard the stairs creaking.

"You have to go," he whispered, and kissed me on the cheek once more before picking up his shirt and turning around.

As hard as it was, I turned away and walking towards the stairs. But turning around once more to meet his eye, I whispered, "I love you, Harry James."

I climbed the steps one flight until I reached my door and was about to open it when a voice said, "What are you all smiley about?"

I turned my head to the right and looked up. Ron was watching me at the top of the stairs.

"Because I feel like it, you bloody git," I replied, and walked in and closed the door.

I fell back on my bed and curled up like a happy little child... Harry, I have no idea what you do to my heart. But keeping doing it.


End file.
